I’m doing the right thing, to go with Miss Dolly, Maggie said to herself. She’s in a great deal of trouble, and she needs me.
But just the same, she felt mean.
Mrs. Crabtree had gone up to her room for her afternoon rest, leaving the kitchen as neat as a pin, the dessert was all made and in the ice-box, the lettuce was washed and in a sieve, the leg of lamb stood on the table ready for the oven. Always leave your meat out of the ice-box two or three hours before, you cook it, she had told Maggie.
outIt was quiet as the grave down here, not a sound but the loud ticking of the clock. Through the barred window you could see feet going by along the street, cracked old shoes, and gleaming new ones, gay high-heeled pumps and a child’s little stubby brown shoes. Sometimes a truck passed with a
